A Poet's Inspiration
by Super Fucking Cholo
Summary: Out of all the mysteries in the world, Armin finds himself lost in the depths of Annie's complexities. As a writer, the young man comes to terms with the fact that she is the only inspiration he needs for a lifetime. (Armin's POV)


**AN: This is just something very short that I wrote for day 1 of AruAni Week on Tumblr (Prompt: Mystery). **

**I'm sorry that I've been gone for long! I've been sick, busy and kind of distracted by DMMD lately...but I am back now! I'll be uploading more fics as the week progresses, and I will also be updating my fics:**

**_1) Curiosity_**

**_2) Pulling Together, Falling Apart_**

**So yeah! **

**I know that a lot of you really wanted Pulling Together, Falling Apart~ **

**And now you will have it uwu**

**Thank you for being patient with me!**

**And now I'll shut up, and let you read this small little drabble type thing.**

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_Her heart is a puzzle I need to piece together; her eyes hold stories that need to be told._

_Her lips are an instrument of beautiful lies; her soul is a mystery I want to unfold._

Closing the notebook held on his lap and capping the pen he held tightly in his right hand, Armin Arlert elicited a sigh and stood up from his seat in his school's library; it was well past the hour in which the final bell rang, and he should have caught the bus ages ago, but something — or in this case, someone — distracted him from doing so. Armin found his current situation funny in a way, because he was so close to stepping onto that bus. If he wouldn't have turned his head and locked eyes with a certain lion-hearted girl, he would now be at home, comfortable in his bed and wrapped up in a book; he wouldn't still be at school, completely immersed in thoughts of beautiful things — beautiful things like her.

There was a pause in the young man's steps, and he chuckled, a sudden realization sinking in. Even if he was home — even if he _had_ caught that bus — he would still be thinking of her. No matter what, his thoughts would always drift back to her.

_**Annie**_.

Just the thought of her name alone sent a pleasant shiver down Armin's spine, and the need to document this sensation coursed through his being. As of late, Annie Leonhardt was the only inspiration Armin needed to fill up the small notebook he carried around everywhere for various purposes; a writer like him, of course, needed as much inspiration as he could get his hands on to keep on doing what he loved. It never occurred to him, though, that doing what he loved would _ever_ involve the person that he loved; even if it did, he would never have guessed that the person would be Annie.

He didn't know why it started, or how it came to this; all he knew was that one day he couldn't stop thinking about her. If he remembered correctly — which he _knew_ he did — it was a rainy Thursday after school. As usual, the same group of boys that gave him a hard time for being _different_ from them were harassing him. Books strewn across the wet ground by a smirking student, Armin rushed to pick them up before they got destroyed; if only he wouldn't have let that kid get a hold of his backpack…

A stack of books held in his arms, Armin reached out for his last book — his beloved notebook — but was stopped when a small hand reached out for it at the same time as him. A feeling of dread in his stomach, he dared to look up; the sight in front of him was puzzling. Clad in the regular school uniform and her signature hoodie stood Annie; her ocean eyes bore into Armin's sky blues, and she carefully, slowly, picked up the book. Wordlessly — still maintaining eye contact — she handed Armin the book; although her face lacked of emotion during this brief exchange, her eyes held the key to her true feelings. Armin could almost detect a look of understanding in those eyes. It was almost as if she was sharing his pain.

Looking back on that day, Armin could only concur that her eyes were the reason; the reason he was inspired by her, the reason he couldn't take his mind off of her, the reason he _fell_for her. Although her actions and statements were unclear, her vivid eyes held no secrets. Although she was a complex girl with a simple name, the mystery of her being could be solved with careful observation.

And time. Plenty of time.

The sound of someone calling out his name shattered Armin's train of thought and he looked up, suddenly realizing that he was now standing in front of the bus stop; he had walked all the way to his planned destination in the time that he was lost in thought. Quickly apologizing to the bus driver he knew so well, he boarded the bus and took his usual seat towards the back.

As soon as he was comfortably situated, Armin took out his notebook once more and leafed through the pages; sentences, paragraphs — countless mentions of _her_ filled up the contents of the book. Each passage spoke of something different he had learned about her, or a new part of her mystery he wanted to solve.

Maybe one day he would get up the courage to speak to the source of his inspiration; maybe one day he would dare to personally figure her out. If that day ever came, and if he was successful in his endeavors — which he was confident he _would_ be if ever given the chance — maybe, just _maybe_, he would show her his book.

With a smile on his face and a light feeling in his heart, Armin nodded to himself. Yes; one day he would share the contents of his heart with her — because, after all, she was the missing puzzle piece within it. She was his beautiful, inspirational, seemingly-impossible mystery.

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**As always, thank you for reading!**

**Any comments and critiques are much appreciated!**


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